


How Far

by TheFFXVShameAccount



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Desperation Play, M/M, Omorashi, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-18
Updated: 2018-01-18
Packaged: 2019-03-06 10:46:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13409610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFFXVShameAccount/pseuds/TheFFXVShameAccount
Summary: "Hold it until you can't," he said.





	How Far

The very first time it happened, they had been young, and it had very much been an accident.

Ignis stared out the window and tried not to fidget. It was unbecoming. But traffic wasn’t moving and he needed to _go._ It was silly. Beside him, Noct was chattering away to the nanny, retelling every good thing they had done today. Ignis had held his hand as he walked the prince to the washroom before they had left and he just… he had been distracted enough with getting Noct to wash his hands that he had forgotten to use the bathroom himself.

Now he couldn’t help but fidget, very slightly squirming on the seat, trying very hard not to make a noise. He needed to be home, and he needed to get the prince back home.

“Iggy?”

He almost pitched forward in surprise, and he gasped a little out loud. He needed to get home. He had to… he had… “Yes, Noct?”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

Noct’s hand, small and sticky from the sweets he had been permitted to eat on the way home, grabbed at Ignis’ hand. He didn’t realize he’d had it clenched at his side until just then. “What’s wrong?” he repeated, stubbornly, in the tone that both made Ignis want to giggle or cringe, depending on who he used it on.

“Nothing,” he repeated, and tangled his fingers with Noct. He squeezed at them to try and distract himself. It didn’t help.

“Tell me!”

“Prince Noctis,” the nanny chastised.

Noct pouted, leaning into Ignis' shoulder. “Are you mad? Was it me?”

“No- no!” Ignis looked down at him, trying not to frown. Did he seem mad? He just wanted a _bathroom_. “It’s not you, Noct, I promise.”

“Then what??”

Ignis winced, and then jerked forward as the pain crashed over him again. He pulled his hand away from Noct’s to shove both between his thighs.

“Oooh, Iggy’s gotta pee.”

He pulled his hands back and crossed his arms instead. He stared out the window and tried to ignore the embarrassment. They still weren’t moving. He was trying not to panic, but the Citadel was so far still.

“Master Scientia?”

Ignis cringed again. He didn’t want to say it. He couldn’t _lie_ , either. There was nothing to be done, right? He just had to wait. He… he… wasn’t going to be able to, was he? He swallowed against the tears that were trying to make his throat go gummy.

“We’ll return to the Citadel soon, I’m sure,” the nanny continued, but Ignis didn’t want to listen. He was suddenly afraid… no, he was sure it was going to take _too_ long. Why were there so many cars, anyway??

He swallowed and continued in trying not to squirm as he looked out the window, but as the minutes passed and their car only inched forward, he was fighting a losing battle on all fronts. His hands were clenched on top of his thighs and there were tears starting to roll down his cheeks. His hands were clumsy when he tried to wipe them away.

“Iggy, are you crying?”

“No,” he said weakly.

“Don’t cry!” Noct squirmed over to put his arms around his torso. Ignis gasped. “It’s okay!”

 _It’s not, it’s not! It’s not!_ He jerked his hands back between his legs, all sense of propriety lost. There was no use, there was no _waiting_ any longer, he _couldn’t-_

There was no use in not crying, either, although he made an effort to choke back the sob when he lost control. It bypassed what he thought he’d known of embarrassment. And it was still a relief, because he’d just needed to _go_ for ages now, and Noct was still holding him and not pulling away and not hating him. And he was sitting awfully close, Ignis realized with a start, trousers sodden. “Noct-” He tried to squirm away, but didn’t dare touch the prince because his hands were wet. “Noct-”

“You’re okay!” Noctis announced, and rest his head on his shoulder. As if he were the one meant to be taking care of Ignis.

It didn’t help him feel better. Here was Noct, a kid, able to control himself through a long car ride, and then there he was, hot and wet and trembling. He dropped his hands into his lap and bit his lower lip and went back to looking out the window.

It was the very first thing that Noctis announced once they were back at the Citadel, and Ignis' ears burned again. Nanny chastised Noct again, but King Regis had come up and scooped Ignis into his arms, wet clothes and all, much to his horror.

“Well, that happens to the best of us!” he said, and ruffled Ignis' hair. “Even the king,” he added, dropping his voice and Ignis pulled his head back to look at him uncertainly.

“Really…?” He wasn’t sure if he should believe him, but he was the king, right? He had to.

“At least once in my lifetime, I swear it.” He smiled. “How about a hot bath? Your uncle’s in a meeting, but I’ll tend to you if you’ll allow me.”

“U-Uh, yeah,” Ignis stammered, and then corrected himself. “Yes, thank you. Majesty.”

“I’ll come!” Noctis announced, and took Ignis' hand once Regis had set him down.

* * *

 

The second time happened far enough after the first for it to have faded in his mind, although it wasn’t something he was liable to ever forget. Years dulled the embarrassment, but didn’t erase it at all.

It was _textbook_.

Ignis didn’t know how it happened. The meeting hadn’t gone on for any longer than he had rightfully expected, but he had lost the ability to focus a half an hour ago. Thankfully, he had been able to listen just enough to continue taking notes, but trying to make sense of any of the proceedings was a lost cause. He would have to look over his own notes, later, when this stupid meeting was actually _over_.

At the very least, he was afforded cover with the table, so if he dropped a hand into his lap to put between his legs, no one would notice so long as he didn’t start blushing. He had gotten good at that, throughout the years, steeling his emotions. Evidently not his bladder, though, he thought, and shifted just slightly in his chair. For God’s sake. He was _sixteen._ He could wait ten more minutes.

Theoretically, he could have just stood up and gone to the toilets; people came and went in these meetings all the time, despite being looked down upon for it. But they were wrapping up. It seemed ludicrous to leave now. If he left now, he’d have all eyes on him and he didn’t trust himself to maintain his composure well enough on the way out to want undivided attention.

He’d wait. He could wait.

He finished up jotting down notes, gone messier and into shorthand by the time the conversation was over. Then he very carefully folded up his things and put them away, slipping a paperclip onto the handouts even as he bounced his leg underneath the table. As soon as everyone left, he’d make a run for it. As close to a run as he could. The restroom was right down the hall. Hopefully everyone else didn’t have the same idea as he did. God, don’t think about that, he’d never be able to wait through a line-

He never considered himself a particularly impatient person, but he had never been more impatient for these people to _get out_. His legs were crossed so tightly beneath the table he couldn’t feel them. Just the steady pulse of his bladder and the occasional stabbing sensation from it. Please hurry, _please._

He was on his feet the moment the door closed. A mistake. He was moving too fast and gravity was not kind. A thin trickle made it past his ironclad control. He choked on his breath and doubled over, twisting his legs together. Oh God, oh _God_ , he couldn’t walk out there, he couldn’t go out there like _this_. He had seconds, maybe, minutes-

Suddenly, he was a kid again, tears streaming down his face as he wet himself in one of the Citadel’s cars.

He collapsed back into his chair, leaning forward to press his forehead against the table. What was he supposed to do? What was he supposed to do, _think-_

“Ignis?”

By the _Six!_ Ignis jerked his head up, wide-eyed, red-faced _now_ , and looked at Noctis from across the room. Why did he have to be _here?_ Now??

Noct gaped at him, like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Fair enough. Ignis couldn’t wrap his head around it either. “Uh…”

Ignis swallowed. “Close the door,” he hissed, but it came out more like a plea than a demand.

“Go…” Words looked like they were failing the prince. He nudged the door shut with his hip, nonetheless, and stared at him wide eyes. “Go to the bathroom.”

He emitted a short laugh, and regretted it, another burst of urine slipping free, wetting the crotch of his trousers even as he kept a hand wedged between his thighs. Forlorn hope, that. At least he still had the table for cover, even if Noctis could guess from his posture what the problem was. “Bit of a problem, Noct,” he muttered, and cringed lightly. “Please go.”

“You…” Noctis did the opposite, edging forward. His hands were twisting into the hem of his jacket. “You didn’t _-_  why didn’t you just _go_? Jeez, Iggy…”

“I underestimated my _–_ ” He slammed his eyes shut, nearly doubling over again with the pressure of it all. Noctis' gaze, and the leaks and thin streams he couldn’t stop. He wanted him to _leave_ , why did he have to stand here and _watch-_

Even worse: suddenly, the prince was _there_ , leaning over him, spinning him around in the swivel chair and kissing him hard. Ignis' breath caught in his throat. His hand was wet. His eyes were watering. He kissed Noct back with as much attention as he dared. It was even less than usual.

It wasn’t the first time the prince had kissed him, much to both his intense embarrassment and delight. A harmless crush, from the young prince’s side, hormones run rampant at his age and… oh _God_ , he was wetting himself while he was kissing the prince of Lucis.

“Noct _-_ ” he garbled, pulling away.

Noctis put both hands on his shoulders and pushed him back into the chair, and then was slipping his knee between Ignis' thighs and kissing him even _harder_.

Oh God. Oh God. He couldn’t _-_  he _-_  the press of Noctis' knee against his groin was _heavenly_ , things from his uncalled for dreams. He jerked forward on a particular strong wave and _whined_ against his mouth.

“Let go,” Noct muttered. “Let go, please. Let go.”

His mind couldn’t catch up with his body. Noctis was _-_  he was asking him to _-_  and he didn’t have much of a choice, another stream of piss and it was already over. He made a noise that was again something akin to a sob against Noctis' lips, and gripped reflexively at the prince’s hips as he, unconsciously, did as his prince commanded.

He was wetting himself, a teenager, in the middle of the Citadel mere moments after a meeting adjourned, heat flooding into his trousers and, even worse, the knee Noctis still had his knee pressed between his legs.

All of his mortification complete, he very nearly missed the moan that slipped from Noctis' mouth. His heart slammed against his ribcage. What? What was happening? That noise was just as sinful as the ones the prince made in his own dreams, and Ignis couldn’t help, even as he was still voiding his bladder, kissing him back with fervour he had rarely let himself imagine.

He told himself it was for distraction, even as Noctis kissed him well past the last drops soaking into his trousers. He imagined he could hear it dripping to the floor. Maybe he could. There was assuredly a puddle. He pulled himself back with a gasp, dropped his eyes to survey the damage, and didn’t get that far. He was distracted by the fact that Noctis was _hard_ , own trousers tented, and his fellow teen seemed to realize that at the exact same time.

Now it was _Noct_ who went reeling back, face blazing at though he had excuse to be in the highest form of embarrassment. He looked at Ignis with wide eyes, opened his mouth to say something… and then turned and fled.

Ignis was instantly on his feet as well, but the door was already swinging shut behind Noctis. He cringed at the feeling of urine rushing down his legs and into his socks. Looking down, there was a small puddle beneath one of his shoes. Standard issue black hid most of the damage, but there was no erasing the experience.

Oh God. What _had_ he just experienced.

* * *

 

It went forgotten by way of Noctis completely avoiding the subject and absorbing himself in some video game, and Ignis could never find the words to actively bring up his mortification. It was blunted into an awkward encounter, and then what Ignis deemed a mistake. All of it. Even if he had taken his cock in hand in the in between thinking of Noctis being aroused over _him_. Less so over him pissing himself, but even still. Even then. _Scraps_ , for his own pathetic, unconscionable crush.

It was Noctis' eighteenth birthday, the third time, and for once, it was _not_ him miscalculating enough to make a fool of himself. He had since learned the trick of the trade, taking careful consideration into not getting into such a situation. The speeches lingered on longer than he had anticipated, but he had kept his liquid intake low for the opening of the ceremony. Fool me once, shame on you, but fool me twice… Ignis had already experienced the sensation of wet trousers twice, and every eventuality was planned out for _not_ having to experience it a third. Especially not at the prince’s extravagant birthday party.

Noctis had never enjoyed pomp and circumstance, and seemed to enjoy it even less now. Formal dress, surrounded by people, looking intensely uncomfortable.

Ignis didn’t realize what the issue truly was until he had, he would admit with some shame, zoned out on Regis speaking long enough to simply watch the prince. The subtle shifting of weight, hips squirming, fingers plucking at the cuffs of his jacket. Small triggers of boredom for anyone else watching _-_  Noctis was trained in how to conduct himself, and managed well- but Ignis knew the prince’s tells. They hadn’t changed since he was young. That wasn’t boredom, and his lips twitched in sympathy.

Evidently, Noctis had been taken in by the allure of the free flowing champagne. It was likely to calm his nerves, and, also as likely, had had the opposite effect on his bladder.

The prince suddenly turned his head to look at him, meeting his gaze from across the crowd of strangers. Ignis swirled his own glass of champagne in hand and took a small sip. From across the room, Noctis shifted again. And then glared at him, and Ignis had to hold back a chuckle. It wasn’t remotely comical. But King Regis would be finished speaking soon, and Noct would be free to excuse himself to the restroom.

Ignis very slightly straightened his spine, lifting his chin a half inch as though prompting Noctis to do the same; on stage, the prince fell back into proper line, unconsciously mirroring his position.

When the speeches had finished, Ignis swallowed back the rest of his champagne and went to find the rest of the Crownsguard. He often enough felt out of place at these types of soirees himself, despite fourteen years of service to the King. He was familiar with most at the Citadel, but immediately gravitated towards Gladiolus and Prompto. They would all reconvene with Noctis later, when there were less dignitaries and prying eyes. Besides, they had had their party for him the week prior. A ‘proper party’, as Prompto had called it. And it wasn’t even his coming of age yet.

He was well into his second glass when, unknowing as to why, precisely, something made him look up. And there was Noctis, halfway across the room and looking at him instead of the person who was speaking to him. Ignis jolted to his feet at the sheer look of _desperation_ on Noctis' face. He- he obviously hadn’t gotten to the toilets after the speeches, likely dragged into conversation as he was now. Beyond time to step in. Ignis excused himself from their friends and strode purposefully across the room, leaving his half-empty glass on one of the many trays the waiters were carrying.

“Pardon the intrusion,” he said lightly, “but if you’ll excuse the prince and I, an important matter has come up that I must speak to him about.”

It was an effective excuse, and one no one looked twice at when a member of Crownsguard asked. It was easy to take Noctis by the elbow and guide him from the room, noting the quiet little “oh my God. oh my God”s he was muttering under his breath.

“Just a few more moments, Noct.”

“Fuck, _fuck-_ Ig- Ignis, wait-” He pulled out of Ignis' grasp, staggering to a stop. “Oh _God_.”

He paused, turning to watch as the prince leaned against the wall. Much like it was the only thing holding him up. His thighs were pressed together, bent over slightly at the waist. His face was flush, lips parted.

Ignis stared, and swallowed, and felt a hot stab of desire deep in his own gut. Oh. _Oh._ Was that why… was _this_ why…

“Keep moving, Noct,” he said softly, swallowing back the surge of unwelcome arousal. “Stop now and you’ll never make it.”

The prince cringed. “Thanks a lot. I…” He pushed away from the wall, staggering slightly. “I don’t know if I can, anywa-”

“You can.” Ignis doubled back the three steps, taking Noctis' arm again. “You will. Come along.”

“Fuck, it hurts.”

“I know.” He squeezed his arm. “Just a little longer.”

Noctis moaned, very quietly, staggering along behind Ignis. That _noise_ , though. Ignis found he suddenly had an answer. Perhaps. Why Noctis had done what he’d done in the conference room, that handful of years ago. He was liable to never forget that moment. He was liable to never forget this, either, by the way the prince looked.

… a distraction, then. That was what they both needed. “Did you happen to hear there’s a surprise in store for you later?”

Noct’s eyebrows furrowed. “No…? Who…?”

“Likely it hasn’t been brought to your attention yet.” It was the custom Star of Lucis, a car designed specifically for the prince. Likely Noct had guessed he would get a car of his own soon, but perhaps it had slipped his mind with all of the… excitement of today.

“What is it?”

Ignis shook his head. He wouldn’t ruin the whole surprise.

“No, now you have to-  _ohh,_ no, _no_.”

He let himself be pulled to a stop again, trepidation washing over him as well. Yes, there was an element of… sensuality about the look on Noctis' face, but he didn’t want him to humiliate himself at his own birthday party.

“Noct?”

A strangled noise, and Noctis grabbed Ignis' hand and squeezed.

“Come on, Noct,” he soothed. “You’re almost there. You will make it. Noctis. Follow me.”

“Oh no, oh no, oh God, _Iggy-_ ”

“Stop panicking,” he ordered, wrenching the bathroom door open. He tried to ignore how his name sounded, in that tone of voice. “In. Come on.”

Noctis groaned, scrabbling at buttons and belts with hands shaking so badly Ignis knew he wouldn’t be making any progress. _“Iggy-”_ His voice was so raw and _desperate_ and _pleading_.

“It’s okay.” He nudged him forward towards the urinal, deftly sinking to his knees at his side to unbuckle and unbutton and shift fabric out of the way. He nudged his thighs apart with a tap of the finger. “Forgive me, Noct.” His hand was met with damp when he reached in to pull the prince from his briefs. He didn’t let it deter him, and barely had time to lift him free before another stream of urine burst forth over his fingers.

“Oh _God_ ,” Noctis gasped, body tensing up.

He smoothed his free hand against his hip. “No, go ahead. It’s fine. You’re fine now.”

Finally, Noctis released, with a shuddering gasp. Ignis looked only long enough to readjust his aim. Staring off past the prince’s hip, he realized he hadn’t even locked the door. No use for it now. His heart was already pounding anyway.

Thankfully, it seemed the gods were content to leave humiliation at the near miss. No one walked in. Ignis carefully tucked the prince back into pants and fixed his clothes, expertly, methodically, face hot, and rose to his feet long enough to catch Noctis when his knees buckled.

“Ohhh I need a minute.”

“Right.”

Ignis eased his descent to the floor before going to wash his hands. He wanted to splash water on his face, too, but figured that was too much of a giveaway of his state. As if his flushed skin wasn’t.

“… God, I’m sorry I laughed at you, that time in the conference room,” Noctis mumbled. Ignis glanced over, and his head was tipped back against the wall, eyes closed. Like he’d just experienced the bliss of climax. He shook the thought away.

“You didn’t laugh,” he said, drying his hands.

“No… right. I did worse.”

“No.” He hesitated, for a moment, and then sank down next to him. “I think… I understand now.”

Noctis opened his eyes. He looked at him for a long moment, and then looked away, still blushing. “Doesn’t make it better.”

“It was years ago, Noct.” Another moment of hesitation, and then he slid his hand up and over the prince’s jaw to draw his attention back to him.

“… you’re really gonna touch me after I just pissed on your hand?” Noct grumbled.

“I _washed_ my hands,” he replied, with a quirk of a smile. “Running water and soap is a miracle upon miracles.”

Noctis rolled his eyes, and then leaned in to kiss him.

Ignis blew out a relieved breath and kissed him back.

* * *

  
“Noct?”

Noct glanced at Ignis in the rearview mirror, and then back to the road. “Yeah?”

“A pit stop, perhaps?”

Noctis gave him another look, one that lingered slightly too long and sent heat flaring up in Ignis' belly. It had nothing to do with the slight ache settled low in his abdomen, two cans of coffee come back around, and everything to do with it, too.

“Let’s just camppppp,” Prompto whined. “I want to sleep, we’ve been driving for _hours_.”

It was true enough. Ignis could feel the stiffness in his legs, the exhaustion prickling at his eyes. Another glance towards Noct, in the front, as the car was pulled over to the shoulder. “Noct?”

He shrugged. “I don’t care. I guess it’ll be dark soon, anyway, might as well.”

“Yesss! Time for some grub!”

“Like you haven’t snacked all the way here.”

“Hey! That’s different than Ignis’ cooking!”

“Yeah, Specs.” Noct came over, stopping close enough to him so that their arms touched. “Let’s decide what we’ll have for dinner while they set up.” It was amicable enough, _normal_ , but with an undercurrent of just enough of a command for Ignis to nod, briefly, at him.

“Of course.” His response was just as normal, just as measured. He ignored the ache in his bladder for now and followed the others to scout out a place for their camp.

Dinner ended up being complex enough to keep him occupied for awhile. It was just as well. Merely standing as he waited for it to cook through, after, though, proved to be the true test of willpower. Muscles tensed rhythmically, thighs brushing together, clenching a gloved hand on the tabletop in lieu of slipping in his own pocket. He pretended he didn’t feel Noctis' eyes on his the whole while, and busied himself with pondering how he was going to partake in dinner when he already felt so _full_.

Tempted as though he was to join the others in their chairs by the fire, he doubted his ability to sit still without squirming for any longer than necessary and at least with their backs to him, he didn’t have to remain _completely_ motionless. But, he was trying. God, was he trying. Besides, if he sat down, he was suddenly uncertain on if he would be able to get back up.

For not the first time, Ignis doubted his self-control. But he had to hold on. For Noct. Everything was always for Noct, and be it as it was that this… _proclivity_ may not have been on his official docket, he didn’t plan on shirking what royalty asked for.

 _Wait_ , Noctis' eyes begged, when Ignis glanced at him in that moment of uncertainty. And then it was gone, because he _would_. He could. He would please his prince, above all else.

The promise of relief nearly made him lightheaded with need, though, as did the look that was certain to be on Noctis' face when he finally could let go.

Soon, soon.

Noct was overly attentive throughout dinner. Touches to his arm and thigh, leaning over to whisper into his ear. Mostly praise, although the last time he had leaned in with a _pun_ , of all the random things, and he’d nearly swallowed his tongue to stop the moan that came with the laughter. Noct had looked supremely pleased with himself. Ignis had had to put his plate aside, unable to choke down another bite lest he actually explode there and then.

Perhaps, however, it _was_ the attentiveness that allowed Noct to go over to Prompto and persuade him to take dishes duty- what the exchange was, Ignis didn’t hear- and thus all but drag Ignis away from their campfire without protest.

At least, there was no protest on the other two’s side. As far as himself, however… “Noct- ah-” He had to stop, bracing both hands on his thighs. He knew better than to double over, _knew_ better, but the strain of standing up straight was nearly more than he could take.

“C’mon, just a little further.” Noctis gripped his elbow, eyes glittering. “They think we’ve gone off to fuck.”

He breathed out slowly, trying not to laugh. _“Naughty,”_ he retorted.

 _“I’m_ not the one about to piss myself.”

“Hah- ah- stop making me _laugh,”_ he ground out, straightening up to full height again. “Let’s-” He paused on the choice of words.

“Go?”

He would wipe the smirk off of his face, one day. Next time, he supposed. _“Please.”_

“Come on,” Noct repeated, taking Ignis' hand.

How was he managing to stay upright? He didn’t know. Tiny little jolts of sensation that made him shift in hips in time with each unsteady step. He pretended that Noct wasn’t staring at him, staring and _smiling_. Every breath felt in his lower stomach, pressure at the base of his cock. Another step, squeezing Noct’s fingers.

“Where are we going?” he murmured. “Noct?”

“Just a little further.”

“You already said-” _God_ the pressure was unbearable. His hand fluttered to his belt and Noct swatted it away. “- that,” he continued weakly, and wanted to shoot him a glare but his mind was much too focused on keeping his spine straight. He had to please Noct. He had to please Noct. He had-

-to _release_ , his mind forcefully reminded him, and he ground his hand against his thigh. From the barest dredges of his consciousness, he realized he could hear water, trickling, and irrationally panicked for a short second before _then_ understanding: a stream, and a small lake where it ran off into.

“Oh,” he breathed, vaguely aware of Noctis' laughter at his side, and then _“oh”_ ; he was scrabbling at Noctis’s hip to brace himself upright, one hand frantically slipping between his thighs. In the back of his mind, he hoped that they were far enough from camp that the others didn’t come looking. He had no idea. His world had shrunk down to the pulse in his bladder and the trembling beneath his skin, and the sound of Noct swearing quietly. “Noct-”

“God, you’re gorgeous.” He reached up, taking Ignis’ chin in hand to turn him into a kiss, hard and quick, and then gripped his elbow. “Come on. Come _on.”_

“Where-” Ignis started, breath starting to come in short, sharp gasps. He forced himself to again take a step, and another, and to follow Noctis wherever he may lead.

“Just up ahead. A little more cover. Are we due for laundry tonight?”

The question caught him off guard. He tried to think. The last time he’d done the wash had been at the hotel, which had been… how many… the water was so loud. His muscles trembled. “Yes?” he gasped out loud, a question, and winced as he realized his fate for those words.

It was often difficult, with two stalwart companions, to play their little games. The complete experience had to be timed directly with laundry day, and just the thought of submerging his hands in cold, soapy water makes him-

-squirm, drawing him again to a stop as his legs twisted together, all the better for feeling the trickle of urine as his control lapsed, hot and wet; soaked into his briefs and teased him with _more_ \- he wanted- _“Noct.”_

“Here. I’ve got you.”

His lips might have twitched at the reminder, at the words. But he wasn’t certain they did, attention splintered as Noctis guided him back. One step, and two, panicked gasps escaping his lips for feeling that he was losing more and _more_ with each shuffle. Enough to soak through, and enough for rivulets to trickle down his thighs. _“Noct!”_

“Hold it until you can’t,” he said, and then Ignis was backed up against something, a tree, and Noctis was kissing him hard.

Ignis reached back to steady himself against the tree, scoring his bare hands along the bark for _sensation_ \- anything but the throbbing low in his groin and the leaks he could feel himself continually losing. Each one was larger than the last. He nearly moaned into his mouth, and Noctis’ hand swept down through the patch of wet on his pants.

“That’s it… you’re so good,” Noct mumbled against his mouth. Teeth, tongue, breath. Ignis was smothered in sensation. The praise sent different fissions of it through his veins. Warm and heady, flaring the blush across his face brighter. Noct was pleased. That was all that ever mattered. _“God,_ I love you like this.”

 _I love you too,_ he wanted to say. He managed only a garbled noise against his mouth, and hoped it was enough.

A wave of pain turned into a flood of heat; one minute, he was frantically trying to stem off the flow, product of Noct’s desire and the urge for that _praise_ whispered continually against his mouth, and the next, he had lost all control, moaning as he soaked into his clothing.

He managed to choke out a breathy swear before his head dropped hard back against the tree trunk, and Noctis’ hands were pressing and feeling and _stroking_ , groin coming in to grind against Ignis’, and Ignis fuzzily thought, _I’ll have to take special care with his laundry, too._

 _“Fuck,_ Iggy.” A likely wet hand against his chest, and Noctis’s teeth biting at his collarbone.

He couldn’t even choke out his name this time; if he tried, it came out as a mess of noise and hands coming to clutch at Noctis’ hips. He gripped at him, and pulled him flush. He wondered if he could feel the stream, the liquid still soaking into woven fabric, dripping onto dust-covered shoes- oh God his shoes- his socks-

He almost laughed at the sheer impossibility of it all. How they had come so far.

Noctis was grinding at his front, clumsy and uncoordinated. Hands at his chest and waist and hips. Ignis urged him forward, pressing bruises into his skin, holding onto him until they can _both_ chase release this time.

Ignis was aware that time was of the essence when they all but crumble into a pile together at the base of the tree- who knew if the others would come looking for them, and the additional stains would need cold water immediately- but he couldn’t help it. Noct was warm and breathing hard, half curled in his lap. In the wet patch of urine growing cold. Ignis shifted and cringed at the feeling of soaked fabric against his thighs. He focused on Noctis’s weight instead, and thought he might have held him almost too tightly.

“Iggy… you’re so beautiful,” Noct said. Nearly slurred. His eyes were closed. He nosed along Ignis’ neck. “So generous and good…”

For a moment, he forgot about the others and the wet patch and the laundry and the sound of nature around him. The compliment warmed him to the core and, finally, Ignis chuckled into Noctis’s hair. “So are you.”

**Author's Note:**

> there is not enough piss in this fandom I am here to remedy this
> 
> dedicated to someone. you know who you are


End file.
